


You Got The Silver

by pennyroyalpoet



Category: Rock Music RPF, The Rolling Stones
Genre: 1969, 60s, Glimmer Twins - Freeform, Let It Bleed Sessions, M/M, The Glimmer Twins, but also before 1969, but that's just them, delayed fic !!, kinda angsty, love bri btw, mentions of brian jones to kinda fit with the timeline, soft, they're so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroyalpoet/pseuds/pennyroyalpoet
Summary: It's not guaranteed; that's still Keith's mindset.Maybe for Mick, he will.
Relationships: Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	You Got The Silver

_Hey babe, what's in your eyes?_

_I saw them flashing like airplane lights_

"This is happening."

Mick's baby blue eyes gleam in childish content, wonderment lacing his voice.

The band's been hit starstruck, this must've been what it was like for all the big shots back in the town. Only, fame tastes much sweeter than anticipated.

Keith can't seem to avert his piercing gaze from the other.

The adrenaline rubbed off on him, it was purely inevitable; especially considering they had just kicked off their first tour in America.

They've worked so damn hard for this, spent endless days and nights just to get everything to fall in place. And it was finally happening.

The suddenness and turn of events has the entire band under a lingering feeling of accomplishment, a feeling of pure satisfaction in seeing that their contributed efforts had paid off. It had blossomed into something much more, much bigger than any of them had contemplated.

The scintillating lights flicker into a glistening glow, complementing the atmosphere greatly. The crowd's chanting was admittedly too overwhelming for Keith who had backed off to examine the large audience from behind the curtains. 

The remainder of the band had their own individual hassles to manage, all except for Keith and Mick, standing up front.

The former regarded Keith silently, shooting quick glimpses here and there. The latter does the same, catching his glances and reciprocating them with some slight hesitation, their gazes mingling with each other wordlessly. 

"Hey. We'll do great."

It's rather disturbing, disturbing that Mick is conscious enough to see through Keith's enclosed cogitations and streaming thoughts. 

Keith supposes that, having known Mick for a good duration of his life, should've been the foundation as to how they've both been so au courant with each other's views and emotions. 

It's common as to how they read each other too well; it wouldn't be surprising to know if Mick knew every single detail about Keith, much more than the former knew about himself.

It's honestly soothing to know, for both of them equally. Keith feels at ease almost instantly, knowing that he had someone by his side, standing close, no clear intention of stepping away. In plain view, it seemed apparently so.

His pace of breathing relaxes as he allows himself to concentrate on Mick's reassuring gaze. 

Mick smiles, his eyes as radiant and hopeful as ever. Keith can't help it, can't contain the growing smile that twines onto his lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... The Rolling Stones!"

_You fill my cup, babe, that's for sure_

_I must come back_

_For a little more_

What appeared to seem like a neverending period of shows and performances finally meets its completion. 

They've made quite an impression in those fifteen days, a good lasting mark that would engrave itself into stone and stay there for the world to see.

They can't keep talking about it, chattering like a group of excited schoolgirls, a permanent glow in their eyes. The feeling of hitting that peak, the absolute bliss of being able to reach that desired point in their lives; it's happened, and it couldn't be any better than this.

It takes a bit of time for the fame to settle in fully until they've finally considered it the ordinary basis.

The concept of becoming a hit band is rather foreign to their frontman; but he embraces the fame when it hits them at full speed, and he has absolutely no problem with announcing it to the world.

His other half is intoxicated with that same euphoric trance, still in utter bewilderment. They had progressed from hitting cramped pubs where spectators cared nothing of their name, to a full fledged religion, a kingdom where each of their names were chanted like endless mantras.

They all must manage their own schedules. Mick, as the "leader," has the displeasure of having to juggle and balance everything on a platter, a bit more than Brian would have to manage with. Having to chase around gig opportunities and plan for upcoming events is barely nothing at this point, at least to Mick. 

It all appeared to be a job that Jones would have to handle, but the boy watches from the side nowadays – blue eyes peering under a blonde fringe, not daring to interfere. Now and then, Brian attempts to bring up his own creative input, but it was clear that there was room for no more of what he had to offer. 

No interruptions and no interference led Mick to continue in progressing the band towards success.

The situation doesn't appear to meet much of a break as Keith visits for the third time that week, as if he doesn't see Mick every other day.

"You can't keep coming unattended like this."

But Mick acquiesces, because it's Keith, and God, he sure is a bastard but he loves him to bits.

Mick allows himself to withdraw from his current schedule, and surrenders himself fully. 

The weight and stress of having the leading role is far too draining for his tastes, but adaptations must be made.

Oh, Keith knows.

He offers his sympathy, a relief of some sort. There's a genuine glimmer in Keith's eyes; Mick gives in.

As Keith drops to his knees, Mick can't help but to draw out a breathy sigh and screw his eyes shut. 

And maybe, just maybe, yielding is the best thing he's ever done.

_You got my heart, you got my soul_

_You got the silver you got the gold_

_You got the diamonds, from the mine_

_Well that's all right_

_It'll buy some time_

Weeks morph into months, nights turn into endless booze-induced ramblings that end up with somebody punching the lights out of the other. Perhaps, this is the boiling point they've been warned of.

Drugs take a heavy impact on their "experimentation." Cheap brandy fused with cocaine is a fiery yet ideal combination that comes with its own effects. It becomes a growing constant, and it's evident in their music.

And they're still making music, still piling up sounds for the hundreds. The audience is greedier than ever, and standards have never been higher. And it affects everyone.

Mick suddenly transforms into an unbearable manager, always straightforward in work and never has any time to take shit from anyone else. Always has something to criticize, always thinks he's the only one that exists in the band at that point. 

It's become even more intolerable, seeing that Marianne and Mick were on bitter terms. Just one day, Mick was head over heels, babbling nonstop about the sweet girl with the prettiest voice and the petite figure. Reality isn't so sugarcoated of course, so now he storms into the studio with an empty, ice cold glare as he carries a contagious burden on his shoulders.

Keith has become just as sour, only because he can't handle that pompous, dictatorial son of a bitch. He keeps a solemn front in the studio, a phony shield to guard off the licking flames that grow bigger each day.

Watts and Wyman have to witness the power hungry conflict that transpire every day. They've seen the display several times before, but it seems to worsen with time. Their options were limited, so they'd watch on from the sidelines, lacking hope that the clouds would clear so soon.

Who could forget sweet, sweet Brian? They all did, apparently. The outcome was harsh and cruel, but it was ineluctable. He was teetering off the edge of reality nowadays – not the type of mindset anyone would anticipate for a band.

"I'm fucking sick of this shit! You conceited bastard! Thinking you're all this and that!"

"Fuck off, Richards. You're one to fucking talk."

And he can leave it at that, but he doesn't. 

"Don't you remember? Don't you remember that night?"

Mick sneers dangerously, a sinister glint glossing over his eyes. Keith gawks at the other, wide-eyed and trembling, praying that whatever phrase comes out of Mick's mouth next is never uttered again.

"You dropped to your knees so quickly, I couldn't help but to feel bad for you."

And that's the breaking point.

In the spur of the moment, before one lunges towards the other, there's this silent moment, almost serene as they gaze wildly at each other. 

It's almost sickeningly romantic, in a way.

Because the sound of cracking jaws open, blood spilling, and screams of pure anger is oh, so romantic.

_Tell me, honey, what will I do?_

_When I'm hungry and thirsty too_

_Feeling foolish and that's for sure_

_Just waiting here_

_At your kitchen door?_

The storm clears eventually, but the sunny aftermath that is left feels ominous; almost out of place.

They began their tour in the US once more, a mark that contributed to finishing off the swinging 60's with flying colors.

And thankfully, the dust had settled between the main pair, just in time for the leg. 

A show a night, maybe two – adrenaline packed and heavy with deafening sounds. 

The band collectively takes notice of the strikingly different audience, too. It seems as though the crowd matured along with their music. The high-pitched screams that usually rang out were replaced by appreciative applause and polite reactions; which, polite meant cheering and screams, just not as wild as the packs of girls that used to storm through.

On one of the tour's chilly nights, Mick and Keith found themselves huddled backstage. 

It's terrifyingly similar to the first time they found themselves backstage, hiding away from the endless ruckus from the filled venue outside.

It's safe to say they've grown used to it, though. It's just another day, another gig.

Mick peers at Keith occasionally over his steaming cup of tea, observing the latter as he strums his acoustic gracefully.

It's fascinating even if he's seen the display several times before. 

And they're not mad each other, no, they couldn't still be enraged over something they'd buried and promised to never mention.

And it's stupid, they both know it, because they haven't had a “real” conversation in what seemed like ages.

So it surprises Mick when Keith gestures to him, signaling the frontman to sit next to him on one of the equipment crates.

The sweet melody prior to Mick joining Keith transitions into that of a stripped down version of Gimme Shelter. It's not intended to be, but the moment seems somewhat affectionate in a way. Almost endearing.

The feeling that struck Mick as he sang along to the raw acoustic is nothing foreign. Nothing new.

Keith missed it.

_Hey baby, what's in your eyes?_

_Is that the diamonds from the mine?_

_What's that laughing in your smile?_

_I don't care,_

_No, I don't care_

It's a great deal, the new album. 

The band works behind a plan, noting each detail and every small piece while working diligently in the studio.

Mick is in control, flicking switches and turning knobs on the panels, quipping a statement here and there on each track. No word is uttered that opposes against it. He's the frontman, it's been set in stone – he knows what he wants, and what he wants, he gets it.

They're finishing off the final touches, planning for it to be wrapped up and released following their America tour. It's a deal that doesn't ask much, but it still leaves the band bustling incessantly before the holidays roll around.

There's a fresh new face in the group too. A rather reserved one, but the kid has the talent, so they suppose it doesn't matter much at this point. Brian would make random appearances in the studio prior to his withdrawal from the group – where his contributions applied to only two songs, unfortunately.

And the news does come later. Tears are shed, but life goes on.

It's earlier on in the year when they get to their seventh track.

It's a raw, sweet song; something unlike their more heavy and bluesy tracks.

Their initial arrangement is Mick on lead vocals, but Keith finds himself behind the microphone this time.

It's a shift none of them are quite used to, but Keith had the ideal voice.

Even the guitarist himself feels the atmosphere switch, and his nerves take the best of him; which, was rather odd, because Keith never had a problem with going up front for a song, but this one's all him. Multiple eyes are fixated on him, and only him, and he has to carry a track vocally – all by himself.

Before the final recording, they settle in for a brief interval.

"You're not nervous, are you?"

The distinct voice of a worried Mick fills the silence, and Keith wishes he could've been anywhere but there. He rushes for a response.

"Why would I be?"

And yes, he replies with the most stupidest of answers, an answer he doesn't think upon first.

"It seems as if you are. I could tell."

It's met with the obvious response, and so Keith stays quiet from then on.

"You're on in five, Richards."

He prepares himself to enter the studio once more, prepares for the radiant lights that would fill his vision as soon as he stepped in.

Before he's allowed to take his leave, a reassuring hand is settled on his shoulder.

It's a wordless act, speech unnecessary at that very moment. 

Mick presses a soft yet careful kiss onto Keith's cheek, a gesture that would never depart from the former's mind. That's the final act, the conclusion to their exchange.

"Hey. You'll do great."

It's not guaranteed; that's still Keith's mindset.

Maybe for Mick, he will.

_Oh babe, you got my soul_

_You got the silver, you got the gold_

_It's just your love, just leave me blind_

_I don't care, no_

_That's no big surprise_

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy !!! a delay, honestly. started this in about october or after i posted memory motel. got the drive to finish it before the holidays! 
> 
> really slacked bc i had to do a bunch of research on tour dates and release dates yada yada - but i managed to finish! happy holidays everyone x


End file.
